


Aschenputtel

by heroes_in_the_grecian_sky



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: JeanMarco Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroes_in_the_grecian_sky/pseuds/heroes_in_the_grecian_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for JeanMarco week 2014, Day 5: Ash.<br/>Jean's lived his whole life working, and spent his nights by the fire. But perhaps the prince's ball can change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aschenputtel

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a young couple, and their young son. The husband and wife were ecstatic with their son, and spoiled him properly.

  
However, one day, tragedy struck. An illness swept through the kingdom, and the couple died, leaving their young son to a distant relative of some sort. Now, it should be said that this relative was not a kind person, but one who was obsessed with rising through the ranks of nobility and had no time for an orphaned child. So the child was raised like a servant, cleaning and cooking for the entire household. The work was hard and long, and the only place the boy could find comfort was in lying next to the dying fire at night, letting the warmth seep into his very bones, lulling him to sleep with the gentle crackling. Because of this, he often awoke covered in ashes, and the family took to calling him “Aschenputtel,” or Ash Fool. But his real name was Jean.

  
Now, Jean continued to work for the family throughout his life, without much happening to really affect him. He did the chores and thought a lot about his life. Sometimes he wondered what his family would have been like, but he didn’t dwell on it too much. He had to worry about the family he had to work for, an overbearing patriarch, a man named Kitts Woeman, and his two children, Rico and Ian. The children were nicer, trying not get in his way or cause unnecessary work, but Woeman wasn’t like them. He constantly was yelling for Jean to “clean this” or “fix that.” Jean hated him sometimes, but there was nothing he could do. And so his life went, until he was 18 and something incredible happened.

  
One fine morning in June, a letter arrived from the palace. Jean stared at the golden script declaring that the letter was for “The Woeman Household” and the royal insignia stamped into the wax on the back. Shrugging, he started the climb up to the conservatory, where Woeman and his children were currently having tea. Steeling himself for the inevitable anger that would follow his interruption, he knocked on the door.

  
“What?!”

  
Jean swallowed. “There’s a letter for you. It’s from the palace.”

  
He wasn’t expecting the door to be thrown open and the letter snatched from his hands, but that was what happened. Jean blinked, brain still catching up on the sudden movement, before refocusing on Woeman tearing open the letter. He watched the man’s face light up with obvious pleasure.

  
“Rico, Ian, get ready to go do a ball. The prince is celebrating his 18th birthday, and our household has been invited to attend!”

  
Rico and Ian looked significantly less excited about the ball than their father, but smiled nonetheless. A ball, thought Jean. He’d always wondered what those nobles got up to in their spare time. He looked at Woeman, and a thought struck him. Knowing he’d be in trouble for it later, he said, “The household? Great, that means I’m coming to.”

  
The speed at which Woeman’s face changed from joy to fury was incredible, and Jean would admit it was a little impressive, but he had bigger concerns at the moment. Namely, avoiding the wrath he’d just brought upon himself.

  
“You absolutely will not be coming with us! As if I would let such a horrid excuse for a boy anywhere near the royal palace. It would be a disgrace! You will be cleaning and taking care of this house as you’ve always done, and I’ll hear nothing more about you coming to the palace tonight!”

  
Jean stared back at his guardian, and growled, storming off. While he really hadn’t been serious about going to the palace, he had a sudden desire to, if for no other reason than to piss Woeman off. Jean’s anger over the past 12 years of working endlessly for him started to come together, and he ground his teeth together to keep the stream of curses in.

  
He stormed outside, kicking over all the buckets sitting next to the well and sliding down to sit up against the cool stones. He sat for hours, eventually seeing Woeman and the others leave in the carriage. Just once, he thought, it would be nice to have some control over my own life. Every single choice had been taken from him since he began living there, and those years of servitude had taken their toll on him. But he wasn’t broken just yet. Oh no, he had fight left in him. And was going to that party if it was the last thing he did!

  
Jean stood, ready to figure out some way to sneak in to the castle, when a sudden thud caught his attention. He whirled around, and looked at the tangled mess of tiny bodies next to him. Jean stared, unable to understand what was going on.

  
The three little bodies, meanwhile, managed to separate themselves and stood up, then beat their wings to hover in the air at about face level with Jean, who still had a look of shock and confusion on his face. “What in the world-who are you?”

  
Jean stared at the three tiny figures, and one of them reacted rather strongly to his question, frowning and flying over to whack his head. “What kind of a question is that? Who are we? We’re your fairy godparents, you stupid horseface!”

 

“Hey! Don’t call be a horse, you brat. I could crush you easily. And what do you mean, godparents?”

  
The brown haired fairy went to hit him again, but was pulled back by the other two, a blond and the only girl of the three, with short black hair. The blond spoke this time.

  
“Godparents are fairies sent to grant the wishes of those who need them the most. I’m Armin, the girl is Mikasa, and the other one’s Eren. Forgive him, he can be a bit, uh, intense sometimes. This is our first case, so we’re not really sure what we’re doing either. But we’re here to grant a wish. So maybe you can help us help you if you tell us what you want. Then we can be on our way, and you on yours.”

  
Jean stared at the three little fairies, still not quite convinced but not wanting to risk Eren’s anger again. He thought about Armin’s words, and wondered what exactly he could’ve wished for to bring this upon himself.

  
“Well, I suppose I wanted to go the fancy party up at the palace tonight. Woeman won’t let me go, and I just want to go to spite him. But, ah, I’m not really able to. No clothes, no transportation, no invitation. I don’t suppose you can help with that, can you?”

  
Eren snorted, and Jean tensed, ready to fight back this time if he tried to hit him. “Please. That’s a piece of cake. Here, I’ll get him some way there, Mikasa take the invitation, and Armin get him something better to wear. He looks terrible.”

  
“Why I ought to-“

  
Armin cut Jean off. “Honestly, do excuse him. He’s not that bad once you get to know him. Now, if you would stand still for a moment while I do this.”

  
The three fairies all got a look of concentration of their faces, before a carriage appeared in front of Jean. He was startled, then looked down at himself and yelped. His clothes were gone, replaced with a splendid outfit in gold and green. His hands came up to touch the edges of the mask on his face, and then he saw his hands were covered in golden fabric. He stared at himself, and carefully stretched his hands in the golden gloves.

  
“Whoa.” Jean looked over at the trio of fairies, trying to get the words out to describe what he thought. Eren laughed, and smiled at him.

  
“We know. And yes, those gloves are real gold. Now, be careful. We can only keep this going until midnight, so when the bell chimes, get out of there. Have fun horseface.”  
Jean tensed up again, and went to yell before realizing that the fairies had vanished, leaving no trace of their existence beyond the wish they’d granted him. Jean rubbed his eyes. “I hope I’m not going crazy.”

  
He turned to the carriage, seeing that the horses were already set to go, and climbed in. The horses took off immediately, and Jean stared out the window at the manor as he left. It was the first time he’d really been away from it. It felt good.

  
Jean looked back inside the carriage and picked up the little paper giving him permission to enter the ball, eyes tracing the golden letters spelling out his name. He settled back into the lush velvet seat and relaxed, seeing the world pass him by from the corner of his eyes.

  
They were at the castle faster than he would have expected, but he just exited the carriage carefully. He watched the horses go racing off without him, and hoped they’d be back at midnight to pick him up. He gripped the invitation tighter, and began to head for the entrance.

  
Mikasa must have duplicated the invitation perfectly, as the guards hardly gave him a second look, and Jean was inside without a hassle. He stopped suddenly upon entering, staring at the gilded ceiling and marble floors with awe. The entire grand ballroom was packed with people dancing and eating. The buffet tables themselves were laden with more food than he had ever seen in his life, and Jean was feeling almost overcome by the splendor of the room.

  
He walked out among the crowd, and after tensing a few times when people got close to him, he realized no one would judge him tonight. He was in disguise and totally free from his past. It sent a sort of thrill down his spine to realize that he could do as he pleased that night, and his confidence grew. Now this, he knew, will be a night to remember.

  
Jean drifted towards the food, eating a few different sweets before catching sight of Woeman and hurriedly exiting out into the garden. It was only after he was outside that he realized that he didn’t need to hide. The mask hid his identity well. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then went to go back inside.

  
Instead, he ran smack into another person, and the collision sent them both to the ground.

  
Jean stared down at the man beneath him, at warm brown eyes that looked just as surprised as he felt. Jean got to his feet quickly, offering a hand to the other man, who took it gladly.

  
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  
Jean stared at the man. “Why are you apologizing? I wasn’t watching where I was going. It’s my bad, really.”

  
The other man laughed at little. “Oh. I wasn’t really paying attention either. I just needed to get some fresh air. It’s so packed in there.”

  
“I know what you mean,” Jean said, sitting down on the bench. “There’s more people in there than I’ve ever seen before.”

  
“Your first ball?”

  
Jean looked at the other man as he sat. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  
“Ah, you get used to the people after a while.”

  
“Then why are you out here,” Jean questioned, “if you’re so used to it?”

  
The other man leaned back against the bench, sliding down a little and staring at the sky. “Everyone’s just here to present their kid to the prince to make a match. It’s just more tiring and fake than the other ones. Don’t get me wrong, no one’s honest at these things. But tonight’s just worse than anything.”

  
The other man looked pretty worn out from the night, and Jean felt a sort of sympathy with him. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt he need to comfort him so much, but he did. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  
The other man looked over at him, confused. Jean smiled at him. “I’ll make you a deal. You be honest with me, and I’ll be honest with you.”

  
A moment passed, each holding the other’s eyes. Jean wasn’t much on lying anyways, but it just seemed like this guy needed a break. Someone like him, Jean thought, didn’t deserve all that lying. Someone like him, meaning of course, someone who seemed kind, and Jean had always been an excellent judge of character. He seemed like the kind of person who’d just put up with everything for the good of everyone, but Jean could tell he needed a break. Both of them needed one tonight; that was the whole reason Jean was there anyways. So maybe it was just important for him to offer some assistance to someone else. A tiny voice in his head pointed out that the general attractiveness, both physical and otherwise, of the man didn’t hurt either.

  
The other man smiled, and it reminded Jean a little of the first flowers blooming on the tree outside his window in spring. A warmth spread through him.

“I’d like that. So, tell me honestly, are you enjoying yourself?”

  
Jean looked away. “I suppose. The food’s good, at least, and the music sounds nice.”

  
“How about the dancing?”

  
Jean laughed, and the man frowned. “What?”

  
“I don’t know how to dance,” Jean said. He had promised to tell the truth.

  
“You’re kidding,” the man said.

  
“Nope.”

  
It was true. Jean hadn’t really had time to learn dancing in-between all the chores he did, not that Woeman would ever let him learn anyways. The sudden movement of the other man standing caught his eye and pulled him from his memories.

  
The man grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Jean stumbled, blurting out, “what are you doing?”

  
“I’m going to teach you how to dance.” The man placed one of Jean’s hands on his shoulder, and held the other in his hand. The other hand went around his waist, and Jean shivered involuntarily at the contact.

  
“I’m not so sure I can do this.”

  
“It’s alright. I’ve got nothing better to do anyways,” the man said, maneuvering them out into the open square. “Just follow my lead. We’re just going to do a simple waltz. Now, bring your left foot forward with mine, and your right foot over to the right and forward.”

  
Jean stumbled with the steps, his feet clumsy compared to the other’s graceful slides. “Now the left one goes next to the right.”

  
Hey moved again, and while Jean didn’t fall over, it was a near thing. “I still say this is a bad idea.”

  
The hand at his hip tightened as the other laughed a little. “You’re doing well for your first time. Just a few more steps.”

  
“Alright.” Jean wondered if he could hear the hesitation in his voice.

  
“The right foot goes back, and the left goes back and to the left. Then the right foot goes next to the left, and we do it all over again.”

  
“That’s it,” Jean asked. Dancing always looked more complicated than that.

  
“Well,” the man admitted, “this is just a basic step. But it’s enough. We just move to the rhythm of the song. Can you hear it?”

  
The few strands of music that had been in the background of Jean’s focus suddenly amplified. The smooth flow of the instruments drifted around him, and it almost seemed tangible in the air. The night was warm and clear, and all around them were tree lit up with lanterns and the starts above. Jean could almost feel the peace in the surroundings. “Yes.”

  
“Good. Now, just follow my lead. Don’t worry if you miss something. I’ll still be here.”

  
Jean looked at his dancing partner properly for the first time that night. He made for an attractive figure, slightly taller than Jean himself, but fit. The rich blues in his clothes worked well against the white and gold accents and the tanned skin. His dark hair seemed to reflect the lights around them, and that warmth was back in his eyes. The gentle smile playing across his lips was just tempting Jean to wipe it away with his own lips. He certainly hadn’t come here with the idea of finding anyone to fawn over, but as per usual, fate had something else in store for him.

  
It was strange, he thought, taking his place in the man’s arms again, and moving his feet in a rough imitation of the steps he’d been taught. It was strange to not know someone and yet want to spend the rest of your life with them, just being near them. He didn’t even know the other’s name, but he wanted to. He wanted to be able to spell it out, taste every letter on his tongue and write it across his arms until it stopped fading. He wanted to wake up in the mornings and see the dawn reflected in brown eyes, to watch the dying light of day cast shadows on his face. Mostly, he wanted to kiss him until those smiles and laughs were a part of his very soul.

  
He’d always been such a realistic person, he supposed, but just for that night, he could allow himself to fall for someone. He could give himself that one night, to dance and dance out in a courtyard, just falling for a stranger who he could suddenly imagine a whole future with. Jean was sure that he was smiling by now, a grin he couldn’t even try to keep off his face. He just felt happy, and at that moment, everything was right.

  
Jean hadn’t ever really had a home, but if he had, he thought it would smell like his partner.

  
They danced slowly under the lantern light, Jean’s steps becoming more sure and natural. They swayed together in the garden, smiling at each other and just enjoying the night. The music died off in the distance, and they came to a slow stop, still holding on to each other. Jean looked into the other man’s eyes again, and there was a strange light in them, something like a fire of warmth crackling alive in them. Without really consciously doing it, he leaned in, and the other met him halfway.

  
Their lips pressed against each other, slow and steady, and then forceful and true. It wasn’t any sort of passionate kiss, not in the least, but it was theirs. It was totally and completely right. The light dancing perfectly with the shadows, the breeze blew softly, and the bells rang in the distance.

  
Suddenly, Jean realized the bells were in fact ringing. The warning Eren gave him earlier came back to him, and he pulled away quickly. He turned to run off, but the other man held onto his hand.

  
“Hey, what’s wrong?”

  
The bells kept tolling, and Jean’s fears mounted. He couldn’t let the other see him as he really was. Those dreams of a future were built off of him not having the life he had, but he did. Jean swallowed, and tried to pull his hand away. “I have to go. I have to go now!”

  
He pulled away finally, running towards the exit. He heard the other man calling for him, but he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t admit to his newly found love at first sight who he was. A servant boy had no business being with nobles. He’d never want Jean if he knew the truth. How ironic, he thought, that they had promised to tell the truth, but Jean never really could.

  
He kept running, and luckily the carriage was waiting for him. He leapt in and it took off down the road. The bell kept ringing, although he knew it had to almost be done. The horses seemed even faster than before, pulling up at his house and disappearing just as the final tone died.

  
His clothes faded away, and the mask melted into smoke on his face. Jean looked around him. There was nothing left of his adventure that night. Nothing, except for a single golden glove. Jean stared at it, realizing that he must have left the other in the man’s hand when he pulled away. He pulled it off and clutched it. It was the only thing he had left. Absently, he wondered if the other man was holding the other glove like that at the same time. Probably not, he thought, and then went inside, shoving the glove in his pocket. He still had chores to do before the others got home.

  
And Jean’s life returned to normal. He did chores all the time and got yelled at. The only difference was that at night, while lying next to the fire, he would hold the glove and think of his mysterious noble. He supposed he’d never get over him, but he was okay with that. Woeman and the others didn’t talk about the ball much, other than saying that they never even got to see the prince, so it was a waste of time.

  
Until the day that a royal entourage arrived, and knocked on the door. Woeman confined him to the kitchen, but Jean could still see what was going on if he looked through the keyhole of the door at the right angle.

  
A pair of guards walked in, and then two nobles. One was holding a scroll of paper, and the other held something in his hands, but Jean couldn’t make it out. The one holding the scroll began to read, and Jean pressed his ear to the door to hear better.

  
“It is the edict of His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Marco, that each and every person in the kingdom should present themselves and try their hand at fitting into the glove so he may find the person it belongs to. All those at the ball are to try this glove on for size.”

  
Jean’s brain whirled. Could it be that the man he’d danced with was the prince? Could he be searching for him with the glove? Jean looked out the keyhole again, at the other noble, and with shock, realized it was his glove in the noble’s hands. He dug the other one out from his pocket, running his hands over the material.

  
He took a look at the noble holding his glove and nearly yelled. He might not have seen his face before, but Jean knew who it was. His noble, the prince, can to personally find him? Jean thought his heart might beat out of his chest, but he took the opportunity to study Marco’s face.

  
It was just as handsome as he’d imagined it might be, strong and beautiful, with freckles splattered across his cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to count them out with his fingers.

  
He noticed that Woeman and the others were trying on the glove, but it didn’t fit them. He knew it wouldn’t, as it was his. But how could he get out of the kitchen to prove it. Jean pulled against the door, banging on it and yelling, but they didn’t seem to hear him. Jean heard the guards move out, the clanging armor banging out a farewell to his hopes. Jean screamed. All this, and nothing to come from it. He was so close, and yet so far away.

  
But then the door opened, and Jean turned to stare at it, and the three little figures floating nearby.

  
“Well, what are you waiting for stupid? Go get your prince!” Eren smirked at him the whole time, and Jean would have been angry about it if he hadn’t been so excited.

  
“Thank you,” he yelled back to them as he ran out the door. He burst through and stared down at his family and the prince’s entourage. He had the sudden realization that he had no idea how to explain himself, so in lieu of anything, and with everyone staring at him, he just held up the other glove.

  
The whole group continued to stare at him, but Jean really only cared about Marco, who had pulled out the other glove and was staring at the two comparing them. Jean swallowed, the nerves starting to build in him. What if Marco didn’t want a servant boy like him? He was, after all a prince, and probably wasn’t expecting Jean to be, well, Jean. He had a sinking feeling, wondering if perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to reveal himself after all.

  
But Marco was moving towards him and he couldn’t think straight anymore. The prince climbed up the stairs to stand next to him, carefully touching the other glove still clutched in his hand. Jean mustered up his courage. “Honestly, I’m still not sure how to dance.”

  
Marco stared at him, and then a brilliant smile broke out across his face, and it felt like the sunlight after the rain. Jean could have looked at it forever, but Marco moved closer, grabbed his face between his hands, and kissed him.

  
It was a bit different from the last time. None of the careful slowness from the relaxing night, but something passionate and waited for. Jean probably could have just crumbled to the ground, but settle for wrapping his arms around Marco and pressing in to him. When they broke apart, Marco just held his face and smiled at him. “It’s all right. I can still teach you, if you want.”

  
“I’d like that,” Jean replied, and he knew that the fire warmth had never felt quite so right as the warmth coming off of Marco. And this time, there’d be no ashes on his face when he woke up.

  
And they lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's hoping it wasn't too bad for a first try. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
